


It's Christmas, Phones are Ringing

by the_seaworthy_muffin



Series: Merthur Week 2020 Prompt Fills [4]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur Pendragon Returns (Merlin), Christmas Presents, Crack, Fluff, Humor, Kissing, M/M, Technology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:34:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28282527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_seaworthy_muffin/pseuds/the_seaworthy_muffin
Summary: Merlin agonizes over his first Christmas gift to Arthur. Arthur thinks Merlin has an evil sorceress living in his ‘phone’. Shenanigans ensue. Or, more appropriately: Arthur Meets Siri. A cracky fluffy little piece.Written for Merthur Week Day 4: “What are you hiding Merlin?” + Fun!
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Series: Merthur Week 2020 Prompt Fills [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2066679
Comments: 10
Kudos: 68
Collections: Merthur Week 2020





	It's Christmas, Phones are Ringing

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't have terribly much time, so this was typed out in approximately an hour and a half...... so there may be errors. Though I really did love playing about with this idea. :)  
> I wasn't really sure if the prompt meant that the work should be fun or that the characters should be having fun, and I really should have asked the mods but I only realized that once I'd finished writing this. :( It was terribly irresponsible of me, but hopefully it isn't too far off from the prompt...... (If there are any problems, please let me know, and I'll see what I can do!)  
> ++Warning for possible Siri inaccuracies. I have never used an iphone in my life and all my relevant knowledge is based off of search results on google.++  
> Also- forgive me; I am Horrible at titles. :O Suggestions- as always- are always welcome!!

It all started with Merlin’s phone.

No, to be more accurate, it all started when Merlin left Arthur alone at home to go “grocery shopping”, because apparently Arthur wasn’t quite ready for the outside world yet. (“Can’t you just have, I don’t know, a servant bring the things around? I thought you said you were a powerful sorcerer or something.” “ _No_ , Arthur, I don’t have any servants- nobody does anymore- and you ask me why I don’t think you’re ready yet!“) Arthur, even after all these years, is still a man of action, and sitting home twiddling his thumbs whilst his loyal manservant goes off to brave the dangers of the New World finding food for both of them doesn’t sit terribly well with him. Kings don’t lie around doing nothing; they _act_.

Or at least, that is what Arthur tells himself about the pang that starts up in his heart whenever Merlin leaves his sight, rather than delve into other confounding things such as the way his dimpled smile makes Arthur’s heart tickle in the most delightful way━

And Arthur is getting off track. Arthur shakes his head, trying to clear his head of those traitorous thoughts that make his pulse pound and face heat up. _Merlin’s just so hapless on his own that Arthur is worried he’ll get himself beheaded or something, that’s all. Yes. That’s obviously it_.

At least Merlin had shown him how to use the ‘phone’ to contact him while he was gone. Arthur had been terribly wary of the device at first- and if you ask Arthur, there is something seriously wrong about a metal box that lights up at touch- and Merlin had demonstrated, moving into the next room and calling Arthur. Now, Arthur picks up the phone Merlin had gotten him, and confidently jabs his finger at the screen. It flickers to life, and Arthur frowns, wondering which picture to press on next. Ah. That funny little thing that looked like a piece of parchment, then presses and holds the number one as Merlin has directed.

The ‘ringtone’ starts up, and Arthur leans back against Merlin’s ridiculously plush chair, smug as a cat that got the cream. Never say that Arthur is a slow learner. Arthur bets even Merlin wasn’t this good the first time he came across a ‘phone’, he probably thought it was an enemy and tried to blow it up with a fireball or something.

Arthur leans back, and waits.

Then another phone starts ringing in the bedroom.

☎

Arthur sneaks in, kitchen knife at the ready, only to come face-to-face with Merlin’s phone dangling precariously off of Merlin’s (very much unmade) bed. Arthur sighs, shaking his head fondly. The scene brings to mind all the times back in Camelot when Merlin had left bits of Arthur’s bed-sheets untucked, or maybe a few breadcrumbs scattered across his desk. Powerful or not, Merlin will always be the least tidy man he’s ever seen.

“Seriously, Merlin,” Arthur sighs, with feeling.

Then a calm, monotonous woman’s voice answers from Merlin’s phone:

_Siri here. How may I help you?_

Arthur most certainly does not scream and drop the phone.

☎

Upon making a calm, strategic retreat back into the living room ( _yes, calm; and anyone else who tells you otherwise is a dirty liar_ ) Arthur sits down on Merlin’s chair to think.

It’s impossible for another woman to have hidden into Merlin’s chambers. Arthur would have known; he hadn’t been called Camelot’s best warrior for nothing. But he had heard that voice, loud and clear- almost as if the speaker had been right there in the room with him.

_Magic_ , Arthur thinks.

While he may have come to terms with Merlin’s magic, Arthur is well aware of the fact that certain users of magic may indeed be evil. Merlin is a different case entirely- he’d cry for a shot pheasant, for all that a person cannot possibly _be_ that tender-hearted, and Arthur would be hard-pressed to find a more loyal friend in the entire world. He’s seen Merlin use magic after his return, golden flash of eyes sending towels careening from across the room (and on one memorable occasion, a snow-ball careening towards Arthur’s head), and the look in his eyes had been so beautifully open and joyful that Arthur had wanted to pull him close and pinch his cheeks and never let him go. (And where had that thought come from, now?)

But, well, Morgause, Morgana, Nimueh…… it _is_ well in Arthur’s rights to be wary. And then Arthur realizes:

An evil sorcerer must have infiltrated Merlin’s phone. _Merlin’s_. Arthur has to stop her, before she brings Merlin under her thrall once and for all. No, no-one is going to hurt Merlin if Arthur has a say in it.

Arthur nods, bringing his chin up, and marches off to make a plan.

☎

Arthur runs out of ideas when Merlin stops him from wielding Excalibur to chop the phone in half (the nineteenth idea on his list).

“Really, Arthur, if you wanted something to chop so badly- go out to the woods and chop firewood or something. Why on Earth would you want to demolish my _phone_ , of all things?”

Arthur narrows his eyes at him. That attitude does seem a tad over-defensive. Maybe the evil spell had begun working already.

Never give your enemy too much information, his father had always told him. So Arthur grits his teeth and lies:

“You’re right. I must have felt…… itchy. Is there anywhere I can go- chop things?”

“Ah, knew it,” Merlin exclaims, blue eyes dancing with mirth. “You can’t go over a fortnight without swinging your big sword about.”

Arthur chokes; half a dozen obscene images springing to mind. But this Merlin looks so happy, so vibrant, so _alive_ , that Arthur can do nothing but nod.

Merlin will be the death of him one of these days.

☎

Arthur waits until Merlin leaves their ‘flat’ again to enact his reconnaissance mission.

He’s spent many sleepless nights turning his encounter with the witch over in his mind, and he’s come to the conclusion that a certain phrase is able to lure her out of hiding. What had Arthur said, again?

Something about Merlin. And something to show his exasperated state of mind, as well.

Arthur has made sure to nick Merlin’s phone from his pocket right before he left, and he crouches in front of it now, knife at the ready, enunciating:

“Really, Merlin.”

No response.

_Oh, then._

Seven tries later, Arthur is all but ready to give up. “Seriously,” Arthur grumbles, throwing his hands up, “I am overqualified for this job. A king trying to watch over his manservant, of all things……”

But Arthur would never, ever entrust Merlin’s safety to anyone else, and deep down he knows that too.

The phone flickers to life.

_How may I help you?_

This is it. The Moment. Arthur takes a deep breath, making sure to put on his most Kingly expression, and angles the knife so it would be visible to anyone who is inside the screen. This must be quite a powerful one, too; Arthur doesn’t know much about magic, but he supposes it must merit some serious spell-work to shrink oneself far enough to fit into such a small contraption.

“Witch,” Arthur says, as threateningly as he can. “What do you plan to do with Merlin?”

_No results found for ‘What do you plan to do with Merlin’_ , the voice recites. _Please try again_.

Oh, playing secrecy games, are we. Arthur has a good idea of how to proceed with _that_.

☎

The sorceress, however, proves surprisingly secretive, and Arthur (much to his horror) actually finds himself drawn into conversations with her a few times before he comes back to his senses and jumps away in shock. Well, questioning is not an option, then.

Arthur moves on to the next stage of his plan, which is to watch Merlin. He watches Merlin carefully whenever the other man isn’t looking, and after three weeks, all Arthur has got is a newfound appreciation of the sweep of Merlin’s cheekbones, the soft ruffle of his dark hair. He’s got some eyelashes on him, too, spidery and dark; the castle maids must have been so jealous of him……

No. No. Arthur rushes away, cheeks reddening, and Merlin gives him a Look but doesn’t comment on that.

☎

And then Merlin begins turning up to the breakfast table with bloody fingertips. A shiver jolts down Arthur’s spine. _That’s not good_. He knows that most enchantments start off small and seemingly innocuous, then move on to larger, more fatal clauses when left to fester. Bloody fingers may not seem like much- nothing more than scratches, only stark because of the contrast from the pale skin around them- but if it’s a prelude for more to come……

Merlin had said that ‘Christmas’ wasn’t far off, and from what Arthur had gathered, it seemed something quite similar to Winter Solstice. _Heavens, what if the sorceress was planning to sacrifice Merlin in time for the Solstice?_

A wave of pure, unadulterated protectiveness rushes thorough him, and Arthur realizes quite suddenly that he doesn’t think he could survive without Merlin.

Arthur, ever so slightly, panics.

“Merlin,” he gulps, reaching out to grasp Merlin’s hands in his. “Merlin, what are you hiding? You know you can tell me anything, right?”

“Right,” Merlin says in that disgustingly chipper tone he uses when he’s trying to _hide something_. “Ah, umm, if you’d let me go so I can actually butter your toast, _sire_ ……”

Arthur lets go of Merlin’s hands as if he’d been burnt, and eats his breakfast in silence. Merlin looks up from time to time to shoot him curious glances, but all Arthur can think of is the witch in Merlin’s phone.

He can’t lose Merlin. He _can’t_.

☎

Arthur starts sleeping with Excalibur under his pillow.

“You’re going to behead yourself in your sleep,” Merlin says, fond, and casts him a charm to prevent any accidental beheadings.

☎

Christmas morning dawns crisp and bright. It’s snowed overnight, and the city is blanketed in soft tones of white, spread like a tapestry out of Arthur’s window.

Merlin bounces into Arthur’s room with breakfast, a veritable feast of sausages and bacon and honeyed ham and toast, topped off with mashed potatoes and a hot, steaming cup of ‘coffee’. Arthur chews dutifully, careful to keep his senses alert. The vague dread gathering in his gut makes the food taste like sandpaper in his mouth.

Merlin frowns at him. “Any problems?” he says.

“No,” Arthur replies, scowling down at his sausage. He stabs at it with his fork, a small measure of vindictive glee surfacing as its juices splatter all over the tray. _Yes,_ Arthur thinks. _Anyone who tries to hurt Merlin_ ━

“Keep that up and you’re doing the dishes,” Merlin admonishes, and Arthur sighs.

Bloody fool; his life is in danger and all he can think of is the dishes. It’s a good thing for him that he’s so adorable Arthur can’t bring himself to hate him.

Wait.

Adorable?

Now where had _that_ come from?

☎

After breakfast, it’s time for presents.

“But I haven’t got you anything,” Arthur protests, fingering the beribboned box Merlin has handed him. It’s gorgeous, pendragon red trimmed in gold, simple but elegant. Merlin smiles at him, eyes crinkling in the corners, and Arthur is robbed of breath for a split-second.

“It’s okay. I wanted to keep it a surprise. And…… you’re back.” Merlin takes a deep breath, as if he was planning to say something more, but ends up saying: “Go on, open it up. I think you’ll like it.”

Arthur tears carefully away at the layers of paper, prying open the paper box inside.

“Merlin, what is this?”

“Your cloak.” Arthur can hear the grin in Merlin’s voice. And yes, it is- there’s the hole where Leon had stepped on it during weapons practice, the frayed hem that Merlin had patched together for him…… the very same cloak he’d worn in Camelot, somehow, miraculously _here_.

“Merlin, how━?”

“I’d kept it preserved with magic,” Merlin confesses, smiling shyly. “And I patched it up a bit. I mean, I was pretty out of practice with the stitching bit, so……” he wriggles his fingers, showing the reddened tips where the needle must have pricked them. “But. Arthur, do you like it?”

“Do I bloody like- _Mer_ lin, of course you had to ask.” He resists the urge to drag Merlin into a crushing embrace. Then his eyes narrow. “Wait. I thought that was because of the witch in your phone.”

Merlin blinks at him, flabbergasted. “I have a witch in my phone?”

“Yes! She calls herself-“ Arthur wracks his brain. He has an excellent tactical memory. “ _Siri_ , was it? I thought she was planning to harm you.”

Silence.

Then Merlin starts to chortle so hard he can’t even breathe. Arthur hovers, half-exasperated, half-concerned. What if it’s some new kind of curse? Making people laugh to death?

“It’s a matter of life and death, Merlin,” Arthur admonishes him. “Now, however powerful you may be-“

“ _Arthur,_ Siri is a function of the phone. It’s a kind of helper.”

_What_.

Arthur blinks, gobsmacked.

“I didn’t have to- try to exorcise it with Excalibur, then,” he manages. Merlin snorts.

“Damn well not; this is bloody expensive. Arthur, contrary to your expectations, I can actually take care of myself.”

“But I can’t bear the thought of losing you,” Arthur blurts. He snaps his mouth shut right after, but the damage is done. Arthur can hear his heartbeat pounding away in his chest, feel the blood rushing through his veins. He looks at Merlin, wide-eyed.

And then Merlin’s crashed into him in a proper, crushing embrace, and their lips meet, and Merlin’s _kissing him_.

Merlin tastes like smoked bacon and ham and lightning, which absolutely shouldn’t have worked together but somehow does. Arthur licks at Merlin’s lower lip, begging for entry. Merlin acquiesces, hand winding into Arthur’s hair and _pulling_ , legs coming up to squeeze insistently at Arthur’s waist.

It’s the best bloody five minutes of his life.

Merlin pulls back, eyes wide and unbelieving, lips kissed red and shining in the sunlight that filters through their windows.

“Arthur.”

“ _Mer_ lin.”

“That was━”

“Yes.”

Merlin scrabbles back down to stand face-to-face with Arthur, close enough that he can count the individual lashes in his eyes. Arthur was right, those would have given any fair maiden a run for their money.

“I think I need to, umm, clear away breakfast,” he says, averting his eyes. Arthur has always known Merlin to be courageous, but he also knows that Merlin can be horribly, foolishly self-sacrificing at times, and that it’s his responsibility as his King to bring him back on track.

So Arthur simply breathes. “Seriously, Merlin,” and crashes their lips back together.

Behind them, a phone flickers to life.

_How may I help you_ , intones Siri’s (now reassuringly non-threatening) voice.

“Shut up,” Arthur growls, and goes back to kissing Merlin senseless.

Because, well━

He has better things to do.

And a bloody _phone assistant_ is not going to stop him.

_Fin._


End file.
